Miscellaneous Poems | Page 3

above the ground,?Some level with the native clay:?What sleeping millions wait the sound,?"Arise, ye dead, and come away!"
Alas! they stay not for that call;?Spare me this woe! ye demons, spare!?They come! the shrouded shadows all, -?'Tis more than mortal brain can bear;?Rustling they rise, they sternly glare?At man upheld by vital breath;?Who, led by wicked fiends, should dare?To join the shadowy troops of death!
Yes, I have felt all man can feel,?Till he shall pay his nature's debt;?Ills that no hope has strength to heal,?No mind the comfort to forget:?Whatever cares the heart can fret,?The spirits wear, the temper gall,?Woe, want, dread, anguish, all beset?My sinful soul!--together all!
Those fiends upon a shaking fen?Fix'd me, in dark tempestuous night;?There never trod the foot of men,?There flock'd the fowl in wint'ry flight;?There danced the moor's deceitful light?Above the pool where sedges grow;?And when the morning-sun shone bright,?It shone upon a field of snow.
They hung me on a bow so small,?The rook could build her nest no higher;?They fix'd me on the trembling ball?That crowns the steeple's quiv'ring spire;?They set me where the seas retire,?But drown with their returning tide;?And made me flee the mountain's fire,?When rolling from its burning side.
I've hung upon the ridgy steep?Of cliffs, and held the rambling brier;?I've plunged below the billowy deep,?Where air was sent me to respire;?I've been where hungry wolves retire;?And (to complete my woes) I've ran?Where Bedlam's crazy crew conspire?Against the life of reasoning man.
I've furl'd in storms the flapping sail,?By hanging from the topmast-head;?I've served the vilest slaves in jail,?And pick'd the dunghill's spoil for bread;?I've made the badger's hole my bed:?I've wander'd with a gipsy crew;?I've dreaded all the guilty dread,?And done what they would fear to do.
On sand, where ebbs and flows the flood,?Midway they placed and bade me die;?Propp'd on my staff, I stoutly stood?When the swift waves came rolling by;?And high they rose, and still more high,?Till my lips drank the bitter brine;?I sobb'd convulsed, then cast mine eye,?And saw the tide's re-flowing sign.
And then, my dreams were such as nought?Could yield but my unhappy case;?I've been of thousand devils caught,?And thrust into that horrid place?Where reign dismay, despair, disgrace;?Furies with iron fangs were there,?To torture that accursed race?Doom'd to dismay, disgrace, despair.
Harmless I was; yet hunted down?For treasons, to my soul unfit;?I've been pursued through many a town,?For crimes that petty knaves commit;?I've been adjudged t'have lost my wit,?Because I preached so loud and well;?And thrown into the dungeon's pit,?For trampling on the pit of hell.
Such were the evils, man of sin,?That I was fated to sustain;?And add to all, without--within,?A soul defiled with every stain?That man's reflecting mind can pain;?That pride, wrong, rage, despair, can make;?In fact, they'd nearly touch'd my brain,?And reason on her throne would shake.
But pity will the vilest seek,?If punish'd guilt will not repine, -?I heard a heavenly teacher speak,?And felt the SUN OF MERCY shine:?I hailed the light! the birth divine!?And then was seal'd among the few;?Those angry fiends beheld the sign,?And from me in an instant flew.
Come hear how thus the charmers cry?To wandering sheep, the strays of sin,?While some the wicket-gate pass by,?And some will knock and enter in:?Full joyful 'tis a soul to win,?For he that winneth souls is wise;?Now hark! the holy strains begin,?And thus the sainted preacher cries: --{1}
"Pilgrim, burthen'd with thy sin,?Come the way to Zion's gate,?There, till Mercy let thee in,?Knock and weep and watch and wait.?Knock!--He knows the sinner's cry!?Weep!--He loves the mourner's tears:?Watch!--for saving grace is nigh:?Wait,--till heavenly light appears.
"Hark! it is the Bridegroom's voice:?Welcome, pilgrim, to thy rest;?Now within the gate rejoice,?Safe and seal'd and bought and blest!?Safe--from all the lures of vice,?Seal'd--by signs the chosen know,?Bought--by love and life the price,?Blest--the mighty debt to owe.
"Holy Pilgrim! what for thee?In a world like this remain??From thy guarded breast shall flee?Fear and shame, and doubt and pain.?Fear--the hope of Heaven shall fly,?Shame--from glory's view retire,?Doubt--in certain rapture die,?Pain--in endless bliss expire."
But though my day of grace was come,?Yet still my days of grief I find;?The former clouds' collected gloom?Still sadden the reflecting mind;?The soul, to evil things consign'd,?Will of their evil some retain;?The man will seem to earth inclined,?And will not look erect again.
Thus, though elect, I feel it hard?To lose what I possess'd before,?To be from all my wealth debarr'd, -?The brave Sir Eustace is no more:?But old I wax, and passing poor,?Stern, rugged men my conduct view;?They chide my wish, they bar my door,?'Tis hard--I weep--you see I do. -
Must you, my friends, no longer stay??Thus quickly all my pleasures end;?But I'll remember when I pray,?My kind physician and his friend;?And those sad hours, you deign to spend?With me, I shall requite them all;?Sir Eustace for his friends shall send,?And thank their love at Greyling Hall.
VISITOR.
The poor Sir Eustace!--Yet his hope?Leads him to